This Mortal Reason
by LittleBiscuit
Summary: Edward Nigma. Successful Private Investigator. Maybe too successful? One has many enemies when one is a former-rogue-turned-PI.


**AN:** Hello everybody, I've recently discovered Batman. Specifically the awesomeness that is Edward Nigma. I actually like him as a PI, so this story kind of focuses on that. But it mostly focuses on Edward and his thoughts and actions. I have this story almost entirely thought out from beginning to end, though I'm still fuzzy on the details. I hope it all works out. As always, reviews are a kind offering to every writer so be generous with them ;) They make people's days.  
There'll probably be some spelling mistakes in this one. Anyone up for beta reading?  
PS: The chapter titles are actually chess moves, if you are wondering.

**_This Mortal Reason_**

Chapter 1

E4/B6

* * *

There was darkness, and a lot of it. Pressure wrapped around his body, suspending him in mid fall. His hands floated above his head, his whole body slowly sinking under. He opened his eyes.

He saw.

Light seemed to penetrate here, somewhere far above him. Orange and dancing wildly, it seemingly only punctuated the darkness. Yet, it was an answer. His whole body jerked awake and his arms flailed into submission. However, their movement was somehow restricted. His right hand twitched against something sharp and invisible, it sliced his hand and sharp pains shot up through his arm. His lungs were burning, screaming for air.

Water.

Something seemed to be dragging him down, he was tangled. Was he tied up? His feet kicked against something hard, was he in some kind of container? His hands fumbled with the seemingly invisible constraints, his movements sluggish because of the water, but miraculously after a few moments whatever was holding him down gave way. Not giving it a second thought, he kicked his feet against the hard surface and propelled himself forward, reaching out for the light above him.

Dizziness swept over him as his head burst through the surface. He inhaled the cold, fresh air instinctively. His lungs received it gratefully and he breathed heavily, paddling with his arms to keep himself afloat. The night was dark, and his head swam with images of events. Sudden memories jumping at him. His suit was soaked and his shoes were a heavy weight that seemed determined to drag him under once more. He swept his hand over his face to get his damp hair out of his eyes. His fingers came back muddy and bloody.

An orchestra of noise greeted his ears; the screeching of the metal as it bent under the tremendous heat, mixed with the hissing of the evaporating water as the car disappeared slowly below the water. The fire illuminated the destruction of what was left of his chosen mode of transportation. The orange flames licked at the metal and danced almost angrily across the surface of the water. Edward lifted an eyebrow as he surveyed the scene with light curiosity, the memories returning.

So they were trying to kill him.

Well at least _that_ was good news.

* * *

The door of the office swung open with some force, startling Miss Beaumont who had not expected anyone to come in at this late hour. Her paperwork lay discarded on her office table as she got up. She stopped halfway when she saw who her surprise visitor was. Her eyes grew wide.

"Mr. Nigma?" She said hesitantly and the villain-turned-private-investigator looked up at the sound of her voice, halting his stride towards his office.

"Ah, Sophie, I thought I might catch you still." He gave her a wry smile. "Working late as usual?"

Sophie didn't know what to say as her eyes swept over the appearance of her employer. The carpet was rapidly turning dark where he was standing as it soaked up all the excess water from his drenched suit and shoes. His hands and face were muddy and bloody, and somewhere along the way he apparently had lost his trademark hat; his wet, dirty hair hung loosely in his face.

"S-sir?"

The apparent hidden question behind the word was lost to Edward as he looked thoughtful for a moment before returning his attention on his befuddled secretary.

"Did anyone come in today? Or did any messages come for me while I was gone?"

She stared at him and when he arched his eyebrow her automatic responses kicked in.

"N-no, sir. Not as far as I know."

This seemed to displease Edward and he frowned slightly. With a soft 'Hm' he turned towards his office but his hand halted, hovering over his doorknob as another thought seemed to pass his mind. He turned around once again and with two large steps was beside her desk. He took a pen and began to write something on a small slip of paper before proceeding to seal it in an envelope.

"Would you be so kind as to deliver this for me, tonight?" He asked as he scribbled an address on the envelope and handed it to her.

"Of course, Mr. Nigma." Sophie said, taking the envelope without question. Edward regarded her for a moment.

"Your sister lives in Little Gotham, doesn't she?"

"Yes, sir."

"After you deliver that envelope, it wouldn't be a bad idea to stay with her tonight."

"Sir?"

"And you can have the day off tomorrow. You can spend it with your nephews in Gotham park, hm?" With that he turned again towards his office. Sophie bit her lip, knowing that she had never shared any information about having a sister with her employer. Still, something else preoccupied her mind.

"Sir?"

Edward looked at her. "Hm?"

"Are you…" Once again her eyes swept over his body as she trailed off. Edward followed her glance, looking down at his grubby suit. As he smoothed out the outfit, water seeped from his sleeves onto the floor.

"Are you all right?"

His eyes made their way back towards her face and he smiled seemingly in thought. "Actually, I'm quite good. Thank you, Sophie." He nodded at the exit. "Now off you go."

Sophie scrambled to grab her jacket and purse, holding both in her arms without much thought as she headed for the exit while Edward disappeared into his office. Somehow, although he looked like he had just been dredged up from the bottom of Gotham River, Sophie didn't think this was a new experience for her employer and she actually believed him when he had said he was quite all right. She fumbled with the envelope and looked at the address.

* * *

Edward winced as he arduously took out the piece of glass from his index finger with a set of pincers. He flexed his hand and looked up at the mirror but failed to recognize the reflection; the steam from the running shower had fogged up the surface. Now, previously invisible handwriting had appeared; diagrams and short words and lots of 'unknowns'. The rogue scowled at the many question marks. He often got spontaneous ideas while showering, so he used the best available surface to write down his thoughts; the mirror.

He closed his medical cabinet and opened up the shower curtain and stepped inside the shower. The water was hot and burned away the grime off of his skin. He hissed in pain as the many little cuts and bruises flared up under the pressure of the hot water, the most painful the large cut on his forehead. Soon, however, the throbbing dulled and he exhaled slowly as the tension left his body. He'd always liked showers, they left you with time to think.

_Riddle me this, Eddie…_

He looked as the mud and the blood pooled at his feet, swirling and fighting with the water to all go down the drain at the same time.

_Who would try to kill you?_

That one wasn't so hard. Even though there probably were a great number of people who wouldn't mind cutting his life short, who would want him dead right this second? He had a case. He just didn't know who exactly he was looking for, yet. If they were trying to kill him…

_It means they're afraid of you._

And that meant he was on the right track. This was good news. He was trying to get the bigger picture but he still didn't have all the pieces of the puzzle. Some of the corners were missing and a large part of the sky and those pieces all looked the same, which just results in random guess work until something fit.

He looked at his hand, examining the jagged wound where the car's broken front window had cut him during his panicked attempt to escape the vehicle. A disapproving frown appeared on his face as he thought about the facts.

Facts are tricky things. They can suddenly turn on you and make you look like a fool if you have been looking at them the wrong way all this time. Like those picture illusions that can suddenly turn from a beautiful young girl in an ugly old witch. It's still the same picture; you've only gained a different perspective.

He probably knew the tricky side of facts better than anyone in Gotham. And all the facts he currently possessed just didn't fit together yet. That meant he probably had to turn a few of them around and look at them from a different angle. A different perspective isn't easily gained. Usually new insights are the result of finding yet another, but crucial, fact. And he hadn't found that one yet.

_Time to play detective_.

When he got out of the shower, the mirror was still fogged up with diagrams. He wiped them away, deciding he needed a fresh look at things anyway. He inspected his head wound and dressed it with some surgical gauze, thankful that his bowler hat covered all the evidence of the injury so people wouldn't be asking questions. He dressed his hand as well, though he was disgruntled by the fact that his glove was a much tighter fit and handicapped the movement of his hand. He shrugged it off, however. Now fully dressed, he picked up his cane, swung it across his shoulder and inspected himself in the mirror. Sharp blue eyes met his, yet fatigue was evident in his face. He needed a shave as well, but he didn't have time for one. He had to check something first. He tipped his hat at his reflection and a wry smile played around his lips when he stepped outside his apartment.

* * *

The authorities had obviously been here; there was still some Gotham City Police tape on the ground, twirling as the wind played with it yet failing to get blown out on the water. Lighting was minimal from the defective streetlamp a few yards away. But it was enough to see that the car had been towed out of the water.

He kneeled down near where the tire tracks started and brushed over them with his hand, examining the black rubber remains on his gloved finger tips. The steering wheel had completely blocked before the small explosion in the hood of the car. He had lost control immediately and gone tumbling down into the dark water of the pier, several feet below. His guess was that whoever had tampered with his car hadn't really done a good job, some of the explosives probably failed to go off or he wouldn't be standing here right now. The scorch marks of the fire didn't tell him much either, every criminal in Gotham could get their hands on these kinds of explosives. He sighed and listened as the water lapped softly against the side of the pier. It was a quiet and very shady neighborhood, which was why nobody had come running when his car had exploded so spectacularly.

The sharp shattering of glass as the light behind him flickered out made him start out of his thoughts. Before he could turn around, however, there was a feeling of vertigo as he was swooped off of his feet. The sensation stopped abruptly when a moment later he lay sprawled out on the roof of one of the warehouses, a familiar figure standing over him. Edward sat up, adjusted his hat, and looked up.

"Talk." The harsh voice was very demanding.

"You kidnap all your conversation partners?" Edward asked as he stood up and straightened his jacket, brushing off invisible dust.

"Why is someone trying to kill you?"

"Kill me? Goodness, I wouldn't know anything about that, Mr. Bat." Edward looked at the dark figure with faked innocence. His look was returned with a cold stare.

"That was your car."

"And I reported it stolen just a few hours ago." This was true. During his brief visit to his office, still dripping wet, he had taken the time to phone the police to report the theft of his car. He didn't want to spend the rest of the evening being asked silly questions by police officers after they'd discovered what was left of it. "And they happily informed me a while ago that they found it, though regretfully not in one piece."

Batman stared at him in cold silence, his face a perfect mask. Yet it was one that Edward was used to seeing so many years now, and he could almost hear the thoughts going on behind it. They both knew this conversation wasn't going anywhere.

"I will find out, Nigma."

"I hope you do, whoever they are, they can buy me a new car. I liked that car." Although technically true, his connection to the car wasn't an emotional one. He'd find a substitute soon enough.

"I've been waiting for you." Batman stated, his eyes piercing Edward's, who enjoyed this little game.

"What for?"

"Tell me what you know about Miss Morris."

"Lots of Miss Morris's in this city, Batman, you'll have to be more specific." Edward leaned on his cane, intrigued by the sudden subject change. He hadn't the faintest idea where this was going.

"Anna S. Morris."

"Hm, well that is easy; Next to nothing interesting." Edward answered, lifting his eyebrows. "Except for what everybody knows. Hard to keep secrets when you're rich and young and the heir of one of the most successful enterprises this town has spawned. Why are you asking?" He wondered what he had to do with any of this.

"You were hired by her father not a month ago, why?" Batman asked, stepping down from the ledge of the roof, closing the gap between Edward and himself.

"I don't usually discuss the private matters of my clients."

Batman leaned forward, towering over the Private Investigator. "Make an exception."

Edward sighed, flicking his cane against his heel while at the same time standing up straight in a small but futile effort to make himself a little taller. He looked up at Batman and shrugged.

"What do you get when rich people do rich people's things? _He's_ married. _She_ gets bored. _He_ gets suspicious. And _I_ get offered an obscene amount of money to verify his suspicions."

"And?"

"He was right." Edward shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Do you want to tell me what this is about?"

Batman was silent for a few seconds and just after Edward thought he wasn't going to say anything, he spoke up. "His daughter's been missing since Monday."

Edward looked at the pier, musing over this interesting fact. "Maybe she actually cares about her parents getting a divorce and ran away, hm?" He turned. Batman was gone. Edward sighed in annoyance, though not really all that surprised by the sudden absence. The disappearing act wasn't nearly as impressive as Batman thought it was. He inched over to the ledge of the roof, looking down the side of the building at the ground below. He tapped the top of his cane thoughtfully against his chin.

"The question is of course, how to get down."

* * *

**TBC**

Hope you enjoyed it so far :)


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